


Gay Chicken

by htebazytook



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: First Time, Humor, Lemon, M/M, Slash, Smut, but still that kind of lemon too actually, okay not that kind of lemon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-25
Updated: 2012-11-25
Packaged: 2017-11-19 14:02:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/574039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/htebazytook/pseuds/htebazytook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's become abundantly clear that Douglas is running out of ways to pass the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gay Chicken

**Author's Note:**

> And so here I am writing fic for a radio series. Thanks again, Benedict Cumberbatch. The formatting's at fault for the rating, I'm afraid.

**Title:** Gay Chicken  
 **Author:** [](http://htebazytook.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://htebazytook.livejournal.com/)**htebazytook**  
 **Rating:** R  
 **Warnings:** none  
 **Disclaimer:** <—  
 **Pairing:** Martin/Douglas  
 **Author's Notes:** And so here I am writing fic for a radio series. Thanks again, Benedict Cumberbatch. The formatting's at fault for the rating, I'm afraid.  
 **Summary:** It's become abundantly clear that Douglas is running out of ways to pass the time.

 

 

Douglas.

Douglas are you listening?

**Yes, sorry. I'd _thought_ we were well past the point of needing routine confirmation of each other's names, having flown together over a year now. It's taken hours of hard work and study, but at this point I fancy myself a bit of an expert on the extensive MJN crew roster. Evidently it's been rather slower going for you, Martin. Anyway . . . do go on.**

Why does everyone think I'm. I'm, well. Why though?

**Why what?**

Oh, you _know_ . . .

 

**No, I really don't, sorry. Care to spell it out for me?**

I'd rather not actually.

**Okay.**

 

 

. . . Douglas?

**Come now, Martin. You don't honestly expect me to voluntarily perpetuate a conversation with you?**

Fine! Fine. Listen, I just want to know— _why_ does everyone think I'm . . . well.

 

 

**_Martin_.**

All right all right! Gay. Why do they always think I'm gay, Douglas, I mean seriously can you just tell me? Because it is getting a bit ridiculous at this point.

**Hm. Ridiculous how?**

Oh gee I dunno—take, for example, the last several hours during which you, Carolyn, and a cabin-ful of particularly sadistic passengers came up with a delightful little game which, given its object, is perhaps best titled Whoever Thinks of the Most Ways to Insinuate Martin is a Bender Gets the Last of the Good Gin Wins.

**Oh _that_. Well, you oughtn't worry about that. It was just a bit of transatlantic fun.**

Yes, very fun for you no doubt.

**Why yes, it rather was, come to think of it.**

Excellent.

**Just out of curiosity—why are you asking _me_ why people tend to . . . _assume_? Isn't that more a question for a psychoanalyst? Or one of your fellow captains?**

****

 

**Captain Obvious springs to mind.**

The thing is, I've plenty of experience with women, so I really don't—

**Experience certainly. Success, however . . .**

Oh, well, it's certainly true I'm not as successful as you in the _number of wives_ department.

**You _don't_ know what you're missing, you really don't. And especially breakup sex.**

Augh, _Douglas_.

**So you want to know why, do you? Well, of course I can't speak for everyone, but for me personally, I'd always assumed your ill luck with the fairer sex had naturally driven you into the arms of . . . well, in my imagination it's always a sort of bearish bloke.**

Douglas!

**Don't know why you're getting so upset, it's all the same to me—gay Martin, straight Martin . . . only-gets-a-hard-on-for-aviation-manuals Martin . . .**

Ugh.

**Chin up, Martin, it's not all bad. As I believe I mentioned, I honestly don't care who you choose to bugger in your free time . . .**

_Douglas_.

**I do apologize. I didn't mean bugger; I meant wank to. I say, Martin, are you quite all right? You've turned a rather alarming shade of vermillion.**

Yes, yes. Perfectly fine, thanks. A bit traumatized by your newfound interest in my personal life, but other than that . . .

**Not to worry. I'm not interested in your personal life, which I am certain is dreadfully dull. Your sex life, however—now, the psychology of _that_ is sure to be fascinating, don't you agree?**

I really don't.

**Have I offended you, Martin? I'm telling you, I don't mind any sort of deviant sexual predispositions you may or may not have.**

Why oh why did it have to be Atlanta? Whatever happened to the fanciful little jaunts up and down the British Isles of yesteryear?

**I'm being serious—do you think I'm some sort of bigot? I put up with Arthur, don't I?**

Well, I—hang on, _Arthur's_ gay?

**Not that I'm aware of, but he _is_ an idiot. Just between you and me, I'd much rather endure a gay captain than a straight idiot. No matter how much of an insufferable prat said captain might be.**

Oh. Well. Cheers, I guess. Not—not that _I'm_ gay, mind you.

**If you say so. Consider the subject officially closed. I shan't speak of it further.**

Right.

 

 

Douglas?

**Hm?**

What are you doing?

**I think that should be obvious.**

Yes, I was afraid of that.

**Why? Is this making you uncomfortable?**

Extremely.

**You sure? Because it seems to be making a tent in your meticulously pressed uniform trousers, as well.**

That's not the _point_. Come on now, you can't just talk about sex like that and not expect some sort of . . . reaction.

**Agreed. It goes without saying that _every_ time the subject of sex is broached, anyone within earshot is instantaneously aroused.**

Douglas, seriously, cut it out.

**Just a thought . . . but you might try, oh I dunno, _stopping_ me. **

Douglas.

**Cat got your tongue, Martin? Or, in the spirit of accuracy, first officer got your—?**

I. It's. Ngk.

**That's what I thought. Like that, do you?**

_Shit_ . . . God, Douglas, you know I've always . . . well, I really do respect you, you know. As a fellow pilot, and as a man.

 

 

**I'd like you to think very carefully about this before answering. Is now _really_ the optimum time for this conversation?**

Well, what would you rather, then?

**Now that you mention it . . . turn your chin a bit, just, hold _still_ Martin. There we— _mmm_.**

Mmm . . . You're really quite, ahem, quite good at that, you know. I expect you got considerable practice with all the ex-wives?

**Oh yes. Narry a day went by that I wasn't snogging one of them in a cockpit while passionately caressing their . . . well, perhaps I'll just demonstrate, right now. I've got to warn you though, I hadn't _quite_ the same equipment to work with, in their case . . . **

_Fuck_.

**All right?**

Oh . . . _fuck_ , yes. Very all right, in fact. _Fuck_ . . .

**Quite a mouth you have there, Martin. I can think a better use for it, though. See if you agree.**

Mm, _mm_ -wait. Wait, wait. Douglas, this, er, we really shouldn't . . .

**And why not, pray tell? Plane won't need a real live pilot again for ages. Arthur's been puzzling over the enigmatic workings of a laser pointer going on five hours and doesn't show any signs of stopping.**

And Carolyn?

**Oh, Martin. The only thing that could persuade Carolyn to trudge up to the flight deck this far into her mid-Atlantic power nap would be complete engine failure. And maybe not even then.**

_Douglas._

**What? You know I'm right.**

No, I mean 'Douglas, keep doing that' Douglas, not 'shut up or I swear I'll . . . ' Douglas.

**Whatever you say, Captain.**

Uhnnggg . . .

**You're _not_ going to make me call you 'Captain', are you?**

Ah . . . _ah_ , that's . . .

**Well, couldn't hurt, I suppose . . .**

**_Captain_.**

Oh _bugger_ this—come here.

**Martin, you . . . oh.**

****

 

**Well, all right then.**

Why, you _are_ rather keen aren't you, Douglas? Is this what you do to entertain yourself while we're on duty? Just sit there and fantasize doing . . . well, this?

**Not generally, no. Once the boredom really sets in, however, it's anything goes.**

I mean. I never knew you were even _interested_ in men.

**Well, you are occasionally rather striking.**

Oh. Erm, does saying 'thank you' make me sound like a prat?

**Yes. In fact it's your overall prattish aura that makes you so off-putting, in general, incidental physical attractiveness notwithstanding**

I do apologize. Tell me, how are current events helping with my deplorable prattishness? Or, sorry, should I go a bit faster?

**Still prattish, but dear _Lord_ you are good at that.**

I _see_.

**_God_.**

Hey, Douglas?

**_God_ yeah . . . I mean—ahem—yes, Martin?**

 

 

I _might_ be wrong . . .

 

 

 

But I _think_ you may be enjoying this.

**Oh, well, I . . . _oh_.**

This makes _me_ feel . . .

 _Impossibly_ aroused. You seem to be in a similar state.

**Really?**

****

 

**How _can_ you tell?**

Oh you are such a tosser.

 

 

 

**Care to rephrase that, Captain?**

_How_ is it possible for you to still be such a sardonic little twat while we're . . . well . . .

**Polishing the controls? Joining the mile high club?**

****

 

****

 

****

 

****

 

**Playing hide the lemon?**

Douglas, just shut up and squeeze . . .

**You were about to say lemon, weren't you?**

_Ah_ yes . . . I mean, no, I wasn't. But . . .

 _Yes_.

**This really is very lovely, you know. I suggest you pick up a nice authentic copy of the Kama Sutra next time we're in Mumbai and we'll just work from that instead of playing word games.**

**Unless, of course, you fancy a bit of Simon Says.**

****

 

**Or Douglas Says.**

I . . . oh, I can't think . . .

**Good. Perfect conditions. Ahem— _Douglas_ says . . . **

Stop! I just thought of something.

**Oh really? Then by all means do let's stop and drink that in, shall we?**

What if someone listens through the door?

**Really, Martin, I don't suspect any hypothetical someones would be able to determine exactly what is currently transpiring in the flight deck just from listening to our disembodied voices. Now, then.**

**Transpire a bit _harder_ , if you please.**

Like that?

**Definitely yes. What do you want, Martin?**

Just . . . just more. _Please_ , I—mmmm.

**Mmmm.**

_Mmmm_ . . .

 

 

 

 

> Golf-Echo-Romeo-Tango-India, this is ATC, do you read me?

  
Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding. 

> Golf-Tango-India, do you read?

  
**What's the matter, Martin? Aren't you going to answer?**

I can't just . . . God that feels bloody good, d'you know that?

**Yes. Yes, I do. Now, then, you've got your hands all tied up—let me just open the channel for you.**

_Douglas._

> Golf-Tango- _India_ , do you—?

  
Yes, yes. Here.

 

God, yes.

> Um.

  
I mean I mean I mean yes, affirmative, Golf-Tango-India here, reading you loud and clear, how can . . . I . . . _oh_ . . .

**Can't multitask, Captain?**

> Look, you radioed us. You okay up there?

  
Oh _did_ we now?

**I don't know why you're looking at me. It could literally have been done by any other pilot on the flight deck.**

> Helloo-oo?

  
Yes fine everything's peachy so sorry for the inconvenience and thanks very much and _Golf-Tango-India out_.

 

 

**My my, Martin. What has the radio ever done to you?**

You utter _bastard_.

**Just trying to keep you on your toes, Captain, like any good first officer should.**

Oh was that what that was?

**Yes.**

 

 

 

 

Fuckjustkeepgoing.

**_God_ you are good at this, Martin. I'm surprised you've had the time to hone your skills given your multifarious careers . . . **

Shut up shut _up_. Must you take snide little jabs of me right this instant?

**So sorry. Old habits. Let's form some new ones, shall we?**

Yes.

Yes. And, _fuck_.

**My sentiments exactly. Nearly there . . . _fuck_ , Martin . . . **

Ffffff- _uh_. _Uh_ , that’s perfect Douglas, Christ . . .

**Little known fact, that. One Douglas Christ was the Messiah's less famous brother. He took over the carpentry business when Our Lord God gave it all up and ran off to join that little rag-tag group of antiestablishment radicals . . . blast, what did they call themselves, again?**

Ugh just stop it, stop being amusing and start going faster, already.

**So _pushy_ , Cap-taahhh, mmm . . . Your mouth's fantastic, you know. God, just look at you.**

So close, God I'm—

**Likewise. And. Mmm.**

Mmmmm.

 

 

 

 

**_Fuck._ **   
_Fuck._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Well.**

**That's one way to pass the time. Nice teamwork, all around.**

****

 

****

 

**Do you suppose we should do this more often as a sort of teambuilding exercise?**

No.

**We'll have to get Arthur in on it too, of course. And Carolyn.**

No. _No_. What we're going to do is pretend none of this ever happened, all right?

**Hm.**

_Doug_ -las?

**Yes, all right. Have it your way, _Captain_.**

Thank you. Yes. That's all sorted, then.

**Oh, yes. I've sorted you out rather well, haven't I?**

You'll never let me live this down, will you? And wait a minute, _you_ were, were—

**Behaving with gross indecency?**

— _too_ , so why is it you assume it's only going to be embarrassing for me?

**Well quite simply, Martin, because _you're_ the only one of the two of us who gets embarrassed by this sort of thing.**

Oh, just . . . _shut_ up.

**Aye aye, Captain.**

**And . . . Captain? Just a heads up, you might want to do something about, shall we say, the side effects of recent events before we land.**

_I_ might? What about you?

**Well, as you're so very fond of pointing out, I happen to _have_ a change of uniform.**

_Fine_. Back in a minute.

 

 

 

> Bing Bong!

 

 

_Ah, Douglas. Where's Martin?_

**Had a bit of a wardrobe malfunction, I'm afraid.**

_Oh, really, Douglas. You don't honestly expect me to believe you managed to shag Sir Martin the Chaste in the last half hour?_

**And why shouldn't I? It's perfectly true. Oh and Carolyn, while I have you here—just wanted to let you know I'll be taking those shiny, unwisely wagered vacation days starting . . . oh, say, next week?**

_And where are you planning on going on such short notice?_

**I can honestly say I can't remember a single instance of you giving us a proper Christmas break, so consider this me exacting my yuletide vengeance.**

_Fine. You've yet to prove your self-proclaimed victory, though. Come to think of it, how are you planning on proving it? I'll tell you this right now, I'm not going to take you at your word._

**It's funny you should ask, because . . . oh, _hell_ o, Martin. _Delightful_ afternoon, isn't it? All those skyrockets in flight off the portside, and all.**

Er. Yes. It's. Carolyn, _hi_. What, erm, brings you up here?

_Martin. Have you by any chance spent a lot of time outdoors, recently? In the Sahara Desert without a hat for a solid day of sunbathing for example?_

Erm. No, the last time we flew there was ages ago, Carolyn. Why do you ask?

_No reason. And by 'no reason' I mean 'because your face is as red as Elmo with a nosebleed eating an apple in the Red Square as seen through rose-tinted glasses'._

Ah, yes, that. Well, you see—

_No no, don't care. And I _do_ hope for your sake that you enjoy your impromptu little holiday to the fullest, Douglas. You shan't be getting another one anytime soon, I promise you. Well! You two carry on, then. A bit less . . . enthusiastically, if you don't mind._

**Ta, Carolyn.**

 

 

Oh God, she knows, somehow, she knows, Douglas, oh God what are we going to _do_?

**We? _We're_ not going to do anything. _I_ , however, am taking a nice, relaxing holiday in the very near future, and plan to spend the rest of the time leading up to it pretending I'm already on a beach in the Virgin Islands with a nice long book whose publication predates the very notion of putting big metal things in the sky.**

Oh indeed? Am what am I supposed to do without a first officer?

**I really couldn't say—well, _care_. Have a sexual identity crisis without me around to supply the witty commentary, I expect.**

Right, yes, thank you for that, Douglas.

**Oh, _any_ time, Martin. And I do mean that.**

****

 

**If you, for instance, fancied another go right now . . .**

Shut up or I swear I'll, Douglas.

*


End file.
